Quinton Mann is CIA through and through. Mark Vincent is WBIS for life. There is no way they could end up as anything other than adversaries -- and yet, Quinn takes Mark out to dinner on his birthday -- the one no one is supposed to know about -- and gives him one hell of a present in the restaurant's restroom. Mark, not to be outdone, has decided to escalate this game, because it has to be a game, right? There's no way it can be anything else.<br><br>But as the game continues, as Quinn shows up to a WBIS funeral, as a friend of Mark’s penetrates the CIA computer network to get information on Quinn, as Mark breaks into Quinn's house and gives Quinn a very interesting encounter, both Quinn and Mark realize that this is becoming the most real thing in their lives.<br><br>Can they find a way to do their jobs and keep this surprising, intriguing connection?

Houseboat on the Nile

I balanced my weight on my forearms, fisted my fingers in the placket of his pajama top, and pulled, tearing the buttons free and parting the material.


“I’ll buy you another fucking pair.” I growled. I’d buy you the whole fucking store.


He gasped as I took a nipple between my lips and began sucking strongly. His fingers pressed my head closer to his chest, the tips kneading my scalp. I’d never thought of my head as being an erogenous zone, but Quinn was showing me otherwise, and those needy sounds he was making as I suckled him drove me insane.


I tore at his pajama bottoms, ripping them, desperate to get them off him. Quinn shoved my boxers down and out of the way.


We were both oozing precome when finally—finally—I got our cocks lined up.


The relief as slick, hot flesh slid together was only momentary. I needed more. I needed to give Quinn more. Before I could do anything, though, Quinn had both hands wrapped around our cocks, imprisoning them.


Chapter 135